The Game
by alaskanmeat
Summary: Money was never a big motivation, except as a way to keep score. The real excitement is playing the game.


**A/N: **This shit is a couple years old. I might continue it. OC's can be cool, too.

**Standard Disclaimer: **This goes for every chapter: I own nothing associated with Death Note, the games, places, or songs that may appear.

* * *

"_This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,_

_Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,_

_Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,_

_And a hundred percent reason to remember the name."_

-Fort Minor (Remember the Name)

* * *

Nine o'clock in the morning in Manhattan, New York. At the Grainne Café, two girls sit across from one another sharing each others company over breakfast. One of the girls had a pair of focused eyes watching everything, soaking in every detail she could. The other girl listened attentively with her ears, catching every word exchanged between the other customers conversations. The focused eyes drifted to the listener and watched her pale fingers lift the fork to pouty lips with grace and empty it's contents onto a bubblegum pink tongue.

The eyes drifted else where to the people outside walking the streets. She watched each individual for a moment before taking her gaze back to the female accompanying her. Big, auburn eyes caught hers from over her friends shoulder. She met them and smiled at the small boy, earning a blush. She sighed and looked back at her friend, disappointment and a small, barely noticeable trace of regret, settling in her gut. She shouldn't smile at someone she could easily kill. That's right, no one here knew them. If they did, they would run for cover.

"You know, we're going to hell." she said this while she watched those pale fingers make their way back to those pouty lips, no fear in her voice.

In an even voice, the pouty lips replied, "I know." Her fingers didn't tremble.

For the first time that morning the focused eyes lifted from watching the pouty lips to the silver eyes on the same face, "You okay with that?"

"No, I'm not." her voice was steady and honest. She was prepared.

"Neither am I." her eyes left her friends to connect back with the small boys' that watched them curiously. Definitely going to hell.

* * *

"_Money was never a big motivation for me, except as a way to keep score. The real excitement is playing the game."_ - Donald Trump

* * *

In this world, Monopoly is how everyone plays. Passing go and collecting two hundred dollars is the equivalent to fucking someone's face up and being paid for it. Easy. One, two, three, fold. Like a game of poker, this is a game of luck; a game of chance; no promise you'll come out with more than what you went in with. You have to gamble high to make it good, be risky, be unfair, and make what is better than yours and belongs to someone else, yours.

The only twist: life and death are the only things you had to gamble.

So Monopoly is this world, is more like Russian roulette.

Whether joining in is just an excuse to amuse yourself for the time being or to make name for yourself, once you're in, you can never get out.

The only question they ask before opening the door to let you in is: Are you brave enough to play?

Because really, you have everything to lose.

* * *

Light Yagami was a wanted man by many pissed off other men and many lustful women; neither were of his concern.

At the flick of a wrist, Light could have anything. Be it the finest wine or jewels from all across the lands, he could have it. Money was his wand.

He didn't much care for materials or money making, he enjoyed the lives he made hell. Now by all means, Light is not a sadistic beast of any sort. He's more of a sadistic masochist.

And what a wonderful, competitive streak came with his freaky pleasures.

If someone rose the bar, he rose it higher. If someone made a dime more, he made a thousand more. If someone had a good looking girl by their side, he made sure his was breath taking. Light, he would make himself top in every situation. Sexual innuendo much intended.

Of course, he was classy about the whole situation.

He went upon his 'tasks' with grace and ease. Smoothly, he would have his seducer run around and make boys fall all over the place while slipping in their drool for her. Once on the hook, Light would sit from his thrown and draw the line closer and closer until he was eye to eye with them; without fair warning, he eliminated them from the game. No shame in gunshots.

For Light, if number one meant blowing another country up, ship in the nuclear bombs.

He was so close right now, he almost had no competition, almost content, but not quiet. He had two very much unwanted obstacles standing smugly in his way. They had two things in which he wanted, because what they had were the best of the best, the wickedest of the wickedest, everything the finest had.

The more Light saw his desires flawlessly leaving their mark on the world, the more he wanted them.

So who should he pick off the menu first? L or Mello?

Hey, Light may be classy, but no one ever said he played nice.

* * *

Mello got pissed easily, and he made sure everyone around him knew it. Whether it be through cursing obscenities at Matt or threatening an innocents life with looking down the barrel of his gun, he made sure it was known.

His current angry fit was having a plethora of money missing from his bank account. It wasn't necessarily the money gone that had made him so mad, it was more of _who_took the money. To put it gently, this person made Mello's eyes set a forest on fire.

Clear the path folks, hell is breaking loose today.

Matt did not particularly like these fits of fury. Not that Mello wasn't always bitchy. It was just that, Matt was the only one around the apartment flat to endure such natural disasters; no warning ahead of time. When Mello broke loose, it was not over a period of time, bottled up anger, nor did it have any trace of rationality in it. Mello lashed out, right there, on the spot, like a land mine.

Matt really hated when Mello threw fits.

Today, Mello was more fucking pissed than he'd ever been in his entire life. This time, he was going straight for the culprit. No one took things from Mello, no one. Stupid bastard thought he could take Mello's money out of a bank account and not be found. Wrong. Mello found him, Mello knew who he was working under, Mello was going to kill his ass.

He flipped his phone open harshly and ran his thumb over an old combination. As he spoke into the phone, the words bubbled over his lips like venom.

Drip, drip, drip. They splashed on the floor, burning holes through hardwood and cement.

Drip, drip, drip. They melted the receiver off the phone.

Drip, drip. The venom flicked off the phone as it was flung into Matt's face, making him glance up from his game.

"Order everything she requests."

Mello was going to get his revenge, first by taking what was best.

* * *

They say curiosity killed the cat, L had, had a brush with death plenty of lovely times. When L plunged himself into something, it was stricken by curiosity. L and curiosity didn't usually have nice chats over a cup of tea. Quiet the opposite actually. Now, because of one's curiosity, L's life was being threatened. Really now, Watari had warned him.

L stayed enclosed in his…fortress, most of the time. He sent others to do his dirty work. Even though L was only driven by innocent curiosity didn't mean he wasn't fierce. He played harshly when the time came, or well, others did for him.

There was once an incident where L pulled the wrong string on one man and Near nearly got killed because of it.

Near was second in charge of everything after L, though L considered him of equal power. Near was L's star pupil and number one assistant.

After the attack on Near, L asked politely to 'please, have his head blown off' and that was taken care of accordingly.

Now, L had someone working for him, someone who took care of things _almost _better than Near. She was an old friend, a good friend. Or maybe L should say acquaintance. She could build a nuclear bomb out of old car parts in less than two hours and she could street fight like the back-alley master. She was good at the things she did. Using her artistic ability to draw a photograph like image of a poorly described person to bring him in for questioning, using her eyes to spot every reaction of the human body and calling out lies like a lie detector--but better. She was flawless at everything and took care of things like bank robberies and gang issues like it was a toddlers puzzle. Every flick of a finger was done with unheard of grace.

These are the things that peeked L's curiosity several years ago and drew him to keep an eye on her movement as she slipped under the radar for being one of the most wanted criminals in the world.

He thought it might be hard to get her here without her partner in crime by her side, but found that it was rather easy when she said 'it would be a pleasure to work with him' and that her friend 'got another job'. And by job, L knew it wasn't ringing up maxi-pads at Walgreens.

So as L watched this girl working in the garage he provided for her, he received word that he was being hunted. Thus making Near call in a few favors and the girl lift her wielding goggles from her eyes. L watched her as she flung a black bag to the ground and started tossing in what looked like homemade bombs and a few tools.

"Shouta, might I ask what you're doing?"

Her silver eyes flicked up and studied him for a brief moment before returning to what she was doing. "I go by SHE now, and I'm doing what I'm being paid to, sir."

* * *

Mirokii's eyes lingered fervently on the doors across the street. That was her next big break, big money there. Huge.

"Can I ask what's so interesting about that building?" Mirokii blinked, remembering the person across from her.

Mirokii turned to look at her friend sitting in a very male-like manner.

"Can I ask why the hell you try you're best to hide the fact that you're a woman?" Mirokii smirked.

A delicate eyebrow rose for a second and dropped without concern. Mirokii sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, turning back to the window. "I have business there."

"Really?" curiosity laced her friends voice, with a twist of amusement.

Mirokii looked at her cautiously, "Yeah."

A lopsided grin graced those ever-so-bored looking lips and a hand came to push her aviators up. Smokey blue eyes held hers. Mirokii raised a nicely manicured eyebrow.

"What, Yasuko?"

Yasuko leaned in as she stood up, "The man I'm working for lives there." she grinned. With one last sip of her drink, she left. Mirokii watched her cross the street, the handle of an air pistol slightly visible.

Why the hell did she get stuck with tab?

* * *

It tasted like bitter sweet chocolate in the air, which is exactly how the anger had settled. Bitterly.

Mello watched every change of the clock, focused, resigned, and far from calm. Everything about today had been screwed up. From waking up to this very passing second, everything had been screwed to the max. And now, now Mello was letting it settle in the pit over his stomach.

He looked down right frightening.

Matt wasn't so hot about today either. He had planned to have some fun tonight; hit a few clubs and maybe bring someone back for some one on one fun. Now he was going to have to stay inside and suffer because of some prick who rubbed Mello the wrong way, in all the senses of the phrase, and added to his already pissy mood.

To sum it up: Matt was horny, Mello not so much. Matt wanted to be rubbed everyway, Mello didn't want to be rubbed in any way. Matt wanted to get some, Mello knocked the bastard out that tried giving him some.

But folks, lets be clear, Matt was not that bastard.

Glad he wasn't too, because that broken nose did not look appetizing.

One knock sounded from the front hall, and all of the tension flew out the open window. Like a fresh drag, that noise was the most relaxing and desired thing at this time.

Mello's razor sharp eyes sliced in Matt's making him easily put his game down and head for the door. If it wasn't her, Matt would throw himself from a window and into the sweet arms of death. Anything is better than a forced-to-wait Mello. Anything.

When Matt pulled the door open, all the tensing in his muscles that he hadn't noticed, disappeared. A bag was thrust at him as a baggy clothed female stepped inside and walked right into the living room and passed a silently fumed Mello. She looked around with a distant look and then her eyes struck with pure, disgusting joy as she saw every piece of equipment and more taking over the majority of the room.

"What the hell took you so long?"

That was Mello's voice seething, and every drop of stomach contained anger came bubbling to the surface.

* * *

Static and voices slammed into a jumbled mess and got substantially loud before quieting down into nothing. "Hello?"

SHE asked it for the second time in twenty seconds.

"Sorry about that."

SHE froze in her place, slanting her eyes at the voice. Something itched at her skin, nipped at the back of her mind. A small whisper told her to hang up now if she wanted to be safe ever again, then again, safe is something she'd never be. Why would a voice so vaguely familiar, like this one, have the nerve? She wasn't sure, but she had a nice idea of who it might be, and wondered 'but why?'.

"Who is this?"

"Yasuko. Man, did you forget me or something?" no, but SHE was trying really hard to.

"What is it you need?"

There was a pause, "I need a favor."

"What?" SHE was nervous, concerned, but she kept her voice as steady as possible. Which wasn't very.

Another pause, "Hey man, chill. It's just a sketch."

Relief washed over her like rain after thirty days of drought. "Oh, is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Mello."

Dumbstruck, "Who the hell..?"

"He's an acquaintance."

"Does this involve your job?" ice clipped every syllable, danger of the scenario licked her senses into fear.

Danger loved fear's company.

"I'd be lying if I said he wasn't my next paycheck."SHE snapped so quickly. She left Yasuko for a reason. Yasuko always played around with guns and lives for fun, took people down like bowling pins like it didn't _matter_. SHE started this because she _needed_ the money. She never wanted to be caught, never wanted to join in, but now she was stuck. For two years she was almost forgotten, in her past she wanted quick cash, but she was never satisfied with what she'd done. She almost hated herself for it. Now she was under that damn radar, staying under, coolly. Doing jobs that didn't involve death or hurt. But now, _now_, what she so purposely detached herself from had the nerve to waltz back into her life and bring Armageddon with her. Hell no.

"Then why do you need a _sketch_?" she was bitter with her tone, bitter with her memories.

"It's no big deal. I just need to find someone."

"Why?" she was being snappy now, and moved into the quiet. Shadows where people were too fearful to look.

"My boss got something stolen." her voice was light, airy. SHE hated it.

"Is that all?"

"Yup."

SHE went silent and contemplated it. To trust or not? Back and forth her two minds fought, both very well supported arguments. Stressed, she sighed. "Goodbye."

* * *

Taking away a dime, it was nothing. A dollar, a little something. Those two could easily be replaced. Seven thousand dollars? You better run for your life.

Light hissed words of pure crazy madness into the phone before snapping it shut. Seven thousand dollars? Did this guy think he was smooth? Scott free? Unable to catch? If he did, he better see the comment above.

Light was a total fucking hypocrite.

Taking a swing of his drink, he slammed it back on the table and flipped his phone open again. He hit speed dial three.

One ring…two…three…

"Hello?"

"I have something new for you. Get back here and get ready. You'll be bringing a guest back tonight." he snapped the phone shut without another word and glared out his window and into the city. That fucker better run fast.

* * *

"Yasuko's friend?"

This was how SHE was addressed in a snappy voice when she opened her phone. She was expecting Yasuko, so who the hell was this? Her voice came out as a tense, "Yes?"

"He was a short, fat bastard."

"I only need the face, sir." she was happy she had self restraint. Reaching for her drawing pad, she flipped to a new page and pulled a pen off of her work bench.

"Squinty eyes, fat lips, big ears."

Poor description, but this would make do for now. She let a face set in her head, mixing sand spinning with what little she knew, and then began to give life to her paper. She tossed questions here and there to get a better visual and got short replies that would satisfy the need. Ink spread and seeped through, expressions gave and took, until ten minutes later, a man was staring back at her.

Mello murmured the information of contact and hung up with crisp satisfaction in his voice.

"Bastard." SHE muttered as she dropped her pen.

* * *

The sun was starting to set with once again, Mello's anger. Everything was getting cooler, everything was just beginning.

Mello lay back against the soft cushion's of the couch relaxed, snapping his oral fixation away in delight. He let his memory weigh in competition against the drawing in his hands.

"I'm going." Yasuko grabbed a page from the printer and shoved it in her back pocket alongside her gun.

Mello glanced in her direction shortly before nudging Matt with his foot on the floor in front of him, "Go get it." Words with a tone like that piqued Yasuko's curiosity the best way. Matt was gone before coming back with a case under his arm and a game still in his hands. "This is your pay for tonight."

Matt glanced at Yasuko for a moment before tossing the case at her and muttering something before dropping down next to Mello.

Yasuko's eye brow raised before moving the case to hold it in one hand and opening it with the other. Her lips quirked in the slightest. She let the case drop and held the Walther P99 Stainless in the dusks light. With a laser too?

"It's yours when you get back." her eyes slid from the weapon to Mello at his words. With understanding she tossed it onto her desk and left the room with easy eagerness.

Matt looked up from his game and back at the door, and then to the gun.

"Do you think she gets off on those things?"

Yes, he was referring to guns.

* * *

Girls twisted down the streets, lights flashed warnings into the skies, people laughing, alcohol driving every sense in the human body mad with hunger. The city life was great, and so were clubs.

Mirokii never had trouble passing a bouncer, oh and she'd made herself look extra desirable. Girls would be crawling on her too.

Light made a promised a little extra pocket change for this job. Fast money, fast life, fast ride. That's how she lived.

It wasn't a new ride, but the offer was good enough. So good that her boobs were practically climbing out of her top.

She slid herself between bodies, careful not to get caught by lust led hands and moved into the center of the room. Her eyes ran over every head and she didn't see one that resembled the picture Light had shown her. She pushed past people with a feistier touch until one hand caught her in a not-so-polite manner. Just as she turned to brake the mans arm off from the rest of his body and shove it up his ass, she met the eyes of a photograph.

* * *

The dark was a criminals best friend, greatest acquaintance. Everything and anything you did could be hushed away and swept under the carpet, never to be discovered.

The dark hugged Yasuko so tightly to it's chest that not even a cat would see her, but she could see everyone. Or just everything she'd rather not.

This man was a serious pervert. As soon as he entered his apartment he'd plopped his fat ass in front of the computer screen and glued his eyes to pictures of the male specimen, ranging form every age.

Did she just vomit inside her mouth a little?

She ran her hand of her gun lightly, enjoying it's feel against her palm. She wondered what the new one would be like to shoot.

Smiling at the thought, her eyes zeroed in on her target, butterflies erupting with need.

* * *

Banks were really just play grounds that regular citizens didn't know how to play on. It took a real brain to see the joy in causing a riot at midday, early morning and never late night. Seriously, who got perks out of robbing a place when no one was around to see your performance? They were supposed to play too, anyway.

SHE, this was one of her favorite things to do, because it meant blowing expensive shit up.

But always in a lady-like manner, of course.

She remembered Near's words precisely, "This will play as a minor distraction to our threat and I want to see if you still have the talent." Talent, funny. No one ever called SHE's entertainment a talent. It was often considered a crime, in fact, all of her little "talent's" were. Pleasurably so.

She brushed her hands over her black pleaded skirt and studied it in comparison with her pale hands. She aimlessly wondered what Yasuko was doing right now. This would be one of her first crimes in a long time without her. Five years of shameless acts to have fun and they'd made it to the top of the list. And they had always been busy with boring time consumption with a side of constant shadow worked jobs. She smiled at the memories.

The car pulled up to the curb and SHE's face fell blank again, taking great delight in the people on the streets who would never know.

Near watched her silently from the corner, twirling his hair curiously. A sharp, steady flame danced in her irises. He watched her step into the daylight, the corner of her lips tugging up in the corners once again.

* * *

Enough dance, people could be so lewd. Her finger curled around his tie and pulled him behind her while she ventured from the dance floor and led him to his demise. What a fool.

* * *

Pin point target, lift and shift, grin, pull that trigger hard. A loud clap slapped the night air and shattered glass stabbed at concrete. She stood and dropped her toy back into her pocket, turning away from a head that lay plastered to a computer screen; blood acting as the glue.

* * *

Four bombs later and SHE was casually walking away, now a block far from the bank. She checked her wrist watch and kept walking. Seven seconds. The cars seemed to be passing slower.

Six. The noise of the world faded out.

Five. Her pulse speed up excitedly.

Four. She fought not to smile.

Three. Her breath hitched, just a little.

Two. She'd missed this feeling, so, so much.

One. Her eyes caught a mans, for just a second. Well, shit.

There was the roaring of explosions, the sweet sound of what war might feel like. Desperate screams and people running, running, running all around her. She just stopped, and turned. Her mouth formed a small 'o' and her eyes widened, just a little. She might look shocked, surprised, stunned by fear, but didn't she just paint the prettiest picture?

Sirens filled the evening sky.

* * *

Pass GO, collect two hundred dollars.


End file.
